


unrequited

by uppercasebread



Category: IT (2017)
Genre: M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, doin some stuff, some boys, stupid dumb gay boys being stupid dumb gay boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-25
Updated: 2018-04-25
Packaged: 2019-04-27 22:24:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14435388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uppercasebread/pseuds/uppercasebread
Summary: “So?” Stan asked. Richie looked at him with confusion.“So what? If you like him so much, why don’t you ask him out?”





	unrequited

Stan Uris decided that his problem had started on that sunny Tuesday in April.

 It was one month until school was out, and Stan found himself huddled in the crowded Derry High lunchroom, hunched over his bird book. He was carefully scribbling notes from a loose leaf of notebook paper into the margins of the book next to the image of each bird. He had just reached the page on tanagers when someone approached. None other than Richie Tozier plonked onto the bench next to Stan, his lunch tray clattering carelessly across the narrow table. Richie lazily stretched his legs out to rest them- crossed daintily -on the currently (always) empty bench across from their own. His trademark red jacket was slouched off of one shoulder, and he flipped his curls out of his face before finally greeting Stan. 

 "How are you today, Stan-the-man?“ Richie asked, reaching to pick disinterestedly at his food. Stan finished scribbling another note on tanagers before lifting his head to look at Richie. He pursed his lips for a moment, but didn’t speak. 

"Somethin’ on your mind?” Richie asked, eyes narrowing behind his glasses. Stan nodded, glancing once across the lunchroom before back at Richie, who rolled his eyes and swung his hand in a ‘hurry up’ kind of motion. 

“Well, come on, out with it. what is it boy? is little Johnny stuck in the well?” Richie asked, patting his lap to mock that old movie about that dog- Stan was pretty sure her name was Lassie -who saved a kid from a well, or whatever. Stan rolled his eyes. 

“Ive been thinking-" 

 "Oh, that’s dangerous." 

"Richie, please,” Stan sighed, one hand coming up to rub at his temples. Richie pursed his lips before falling silent. "anyways, I’ve been thinking, and I think I might have a crush on someone.“

 Stan looked away, feeling the hot bite of a blush beginning to fill his cheeks. Richie’s eyebrows flew up in surprise, and he straightened out, removing his legs from the bench across the table. 

"No shit? you’re serious?” He leaned forward, eyes shining. Stan regretted telling him, he knew now that Richie would never let this go. 

“Um- yeah. You see that guy over there?” Stan asked. He leaned until his and Richie’s heads were practically touching, and discreetly pointed at someone at one of the round tables a few square ones down. He was tall and muscular, the varsity jacket he was wearing contrasting brightly with his lighter skin tone. Stan felt his throat tighten as he realized that he could see the muscles in the kid’s arms and shoulders rippling even through the fabric of the jacket. His jaw was more square set, a sharp line visible even from the table Stan and Richie were sitting at. He was laughing at some joke one of the other kids at his table had told him,  his cheeks and nose tinged a rosy pink. His soft red hair was brushed to one side, in a way that looked careless and easy, but Richie and Stan were both certain would’ve taken some precise placement. Stan couldn’t help but stare at him as the kid ducked his head, grinning, as one of the other kids on the swim team grabbed at his hair to rough it up until it stuck out at funny angles like a rooster’s comb. Just looking at him caused Stan’s mouth to start to dry up, and it always felt like maybe the world slowed down for a few miraculous seconds whenever they made eye contact. Stan could feel his stomach fluttering with hundreds of finches’ wings as Richie nodded next to him in understanding. 

“That’s-" 

"Bill Denbrough, junior, on the varsity swim team. I know.” Stan said quickly. Richie raised his eyebrows again, turning back to his tray. The table was filled with an impatient kind of silence. Stan bounced his leg. 

“So?” Stan asked. Richie looked at him with confusion. 

“So what? If you like him so much, why don’t you ask him out?” He said around his mouthful of food, shrugging. Stan frowned, eyes darkening for a moment. He stared at the slouched-off shoulder of Richie’s jacket before speaking. 

“I can’t just- you know, ask him out! are you crazy?! He’s probably one of THE MOST popular people in this entire building,” He reached out and pulled the sleeve back into Richie’s shoulder. Richie scoffed. 

“I doubt he even knows who I am.” Stan sighed. Richie rolled his eyes. 

“Anyways, what do you want ME to do? How am I supposed to help you with your guy troubles?” Richie asked, dragging Stan’s bird book across the table and flipping lazily through the pages. Stan scowled, snatching it back. 

“I don’t know, I thought you knew everyone in this school? Can’t you try talking to him?” Stan asked, flipping carefully back to the tanager page, making sure Richie hadn’t damaged his pride and joy. Richie scoffed. 

“I never said I know EVERYONE. Plus, the only thing I know about ol’ Big Bill is his name, age, and occupation. Just about the same as you know.” He said. His arms were folded across his chest, and Stan could tell he wasn’t lying. He let out a defeated sigh, deflating slightly. He felt Richie clap him on the shoulder. 

“I’m sure you’ll be able to ask him out one day.” Richie said, before returning to his lunch. Stan frowned.

 - 

Unknown to Stan, Bill Denbrough had also decided that all of his problems had started on that same sunny Tuesday, only three hours later. He was waiting next to his truck, an old red beater he called the fire engine. She ran slow in the winter and even slower in the summer, and coughed up clouds of black smoke wherever she went, but Bill loved her all the same. He was leaning against the fender, the sun-heated metal practically burning through his clothes. He studied the keys in his hands, completely engrossed in his own thoughts. He was broken out of his train of thought by the feeling of soft punches on his shoulder. Turning his head to see Richie Tozier, his face broke out in a grin. 

“Hey Big Bill! Whatcha thinkin’ about?” Richie grinned, showing off those buck teeth he hated so much. Bill felt himself smiling back. Everybody knew that if Richie Tozier smiled at you, it was practically impossible not to start grinning a little yourself. Bill took a moment to absorb Richie’s question before frowning a bit. 

“Hey Rich, c-can I ask you suh-something?” He tossed his keys back and forth between his hands, watching them roll and reflect sunlight. 

“Sure thing, Big Bill, what’s on your mind?” Richie asked, climbing up to sit on the edge of the fire engine’s bed. The bed was Richie’s spot, he sat there when Bill drove him home, he sat there when Bill took him to school. He’s sit in the fire engine’s bed in the rain and the snow and he’d sit in it during a hurricane, Bill was certain of it.  

“I th-think I m-might be in luh-love with suh-someone.” Bill rubbed at the back of his neck, fingers curling in the short hairs at the nape of his neck. Richie’s eyes lit up. Bill knew he’d love to regret telling Richie about his crush. Richie scooted closer to Bill until their shoulders were touching. 

“Who is he?” He asked knowingly, and Bill swallowed thickly. He looped one arm around Richie’s shoulder and pulled their heads together, pointing out someone in the shade of a tiny maple tree planted in front of the school. He was narrow and lithe, structured a bit like a big cat- small and flexible yet sleek and muscular in his own way. His dark hair was pushed to the side in a similar way to Bill’s, though the stranger’s hair curled a bit at the ends. He was wearing a white button up that contrasted sharply with his darker skin tone and hair color. A small, dark bow tie was tied around his neck, and he had dark suspenders to match. From where they were standing, it was impossible to tell what color they were, but Bill could see that they had matching patterns. He was folded up underneath the tree, a book that Bill couldn’t see open in his lap. The stranger was intently focused on the book, his dark eyes narrowed in concentration as he scribbled something on the pages. Bill felt his throat close as he watched the stranger lick their lips before turning the page. 

 "That’s-“ 

"St-Stan Uris. He’s a soh-sophomore, and he watches b-birds in the park s-sometimes.” Bill interjected quickly, gripping Richie’s shoulders a little tighter. Richie looked at Stan sitting in front of the tree for a moment before glancing at Bill. 

“Well, why don’t you ask him out?” He asked, shrugging out of Bill’s grip, rubbing at the now-sore spots on his shoulders. 

 "Ask h-him out? Rich, are you insane?! Anyways, I’m pr-pretty sure he h-hates me anyways. He always ruh-runs off if he s-sees me in the h-hallway.“ Bill frowned, and Richie rolled his eyes. 

"Well, if you’re not going to ask him out, what do you want me for?” He scooted a little farther away, wincing at the hot metal he’d forgotten about. 

“Don’t you kn-know everybody who g-goes to this school? cuh-can’t you use th-that to your advantage s-somehow?” Bill asked. He looked desperate, but Richie only shrugged. 

 "I never said I know EVERYONE! Besides, I can’t really help you with Stanny-boy over there, I don’t even know him.“ Richie said, tilting his head. Bill frowned at him one last time before Richie swung his legs over the side of the fire engine’s bed and climbed in, relaxing into his favorite spot.


End file.
